


Hotel Room

by thesinaccount



Category: HITMAN (2016), Hitman (Video Games)
Genre: Cheating, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Gay Sex, Give me old gays, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Making Love, Old illuminati members being g ay, Providence is gay now bye, Suicidal Thoughts, Talking bout James Bond instead of work, They don't have full names yet im sad, Theyre old leave them, fuck it, god this is so sappy, i guess, i wrote this because, shhh - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13453911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesinaccount/pseuds/thesinaccount
Summary: Two Providence members meet to speak together in a hotel room; being part of an Illuminati equilant is stressful apparently. Especially with people dropping dead left and right.





	Hotel Room

**Author's Note:**

> I lied, and wrote this gay shit instead of disappearing. And it's actually sappy and cute (?) So that's always fun

“Can I ask you something?” The question seemed to slice through the uncomfortable atmosphere that cloaked the hotel room, making it less thick and heavy. The sound was faint, soft but completely audible in the powerful silence, the Constant twisted to glance at the other man who occupied the space - he was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, eyes sightly cast-down. The bags beneath his eyes were strikingly purple and his curled in position made the man look particularly ill.

“Yes, if you wish. What?” The other glanced up from what he had writing, squinting in the direction of the man perched on the edge of the bed; he tilted his head.

“I think there's… there's something wrong with me and it won't go away.” He flicked his eyes up, they looked dull and bleary, rather unfocused. “I need to get it out.” He swallowed. “I think.”

“Explain.” He turned his body about in the chair, leaning his cheek against his knuckles. “How, so?”

“I don't really.. know?” He raised his arms a slight, in a helpless shrug. “I don't feel happy ever, anymore. If you can understand.” Again he moved a bit, as though trying to further his points, create more impact. “I just feel.. nothing or like utter hell. And it's not getting better.” A hard swallow. “I'm pretty sure it's getting worse and I don't know what to do about it because… I'm worried that.. I.”

“That you'll what?” He got up from the wooden chair, acting nonchalant, brushing non-existent lint from his crisp blue shirt.

“Commit suicide. I think. I mean there's been times where I've considered it. And they're becoming more frequent and the idea is more…” Fanin watched his progress about the room, brows furrowed, “appealing, now.” He looked away as the other drew close. “I'm scared.”

“That you'll kill yourself?”

“..Yeah.” He watched the Constant sit beside him, frown deepening, a notable crease in his brows. “I could do it. If you gave me your gun, loaded, I would.” He glanced to where the handgun was positioned on the little desk. “I'm pretty sure.”

“I'm not giving you my gun.” Came the gruff response. “Or, for that matter, letting you kill yourself.”

“Thanks I guess.” Fanin turned to him, eyes wide and doughy. “So… is there?”

“Is there what?” He echoed.

“Something wrong with me.” 

“Sounds like depression.. or something resulting of extreme emotions. Which I wouldn't blame you for.” It was blunt and matter-of-fact, no sympathy seemed to be evident in the words.

“What if I tried to smother myself?” Fanin looked wistfully over his shoulder at the pillows.

“I'd stop you.” The Constant moved back, so he was behind the other man, just in case the other got really desperate. He had seen it before. Without much thought he removed his suit jacket, laying it down.

“Why?” Confusion had sunk into his voice.

“You're too good to go like that.”

“I'm not really good though, I'm the shittest member of Providence there is.” The breathy chuckle was feeble and barely even audible. It wavered and sounded practically broken.

“That's factually untrue.” He grunted, with a shake of his head, spreading his long fingers over the other man's back, moving in slow circles. “And you shouldn't be judging yourself on that alone, regardless.”

“What else do I have?” The tremble was still present in his voice.

“Family?” Fanin turned and they made eye-contact. “You're wearing a wedding ring.”

“She's not really… my love or my family for that matter.”

“Oh.” He shut his mouth, Fanin shrugged, glancing away.

“Mmm.”

“My condolences.”

“She gave up years and years ago. Probably would want me to kill myself.” He rubbed the back of his neck, laughing again. “Now, at least.”

“Then she isn't a very good wife.” He moved a little closer, so they were both settled on the edge of the bed, blinking at each other.

“Guess not..” Fanin turned his woeful eyes away. “..Can I ask another favour?”

“Yes.” They met gazes again.

“A hug?”

“You want a hug?” It sounded scornful, a harsh scoffing noise. He hadn't wanted it to come out that way, so he softened his tone rapidly. “Not exactly professional.”

“Yeah.. sorry.” Fanin immediately began to move back, looking away and blinking rapidly. “Don't worry, forget it.”

“I didn't say no.”

“.. Pardon?”

“You heard and I'm not repeating.”

“Okay…” Fanin stopped wiggling backwards. “So I'm allowed?"

“Yes, yes you're allowed.”

Without asking any more questions Fanin sank forwards into the smaller man, somehow managing to conceal his face in other’s shoulder - despite being all around a much bigger person. His arms squeezed the Constant painfully close about the middle, one broad shoulder digging into the other's stomach a little. The Constant grunted, reaching over to pat the man's hair gently, it was slightly greasy, probably had been left unwashed for a few days. But the warmth was comforting at least.

“Do you know what we're meant to be doing?” Fanin’s voice was muffled by the other's chest, nose pressed into the fabric of his shirt.

“Providence-wise?” The Constant turned his gaze down to the man, blinking.

“Mhm.”

“We're meant to be waiting for the ICA to get back to us."

“How's that going?”

“It's working, they have weak spots. Pressure points.” The vibration from Fanin's responding hum travelled though his body. “Mainly their top agent.”

“The clone?” Fanin shifted slightly, leaning into the other more, body sliding further down, so his head rested against the smaller man's stomach.

“The very same.” Without much thought he ran his hand over the other's side - feeling the curvature of his ribs and hips - it was more blind curiosity than anything else. Fanin shuddered beneath his fingers.

“Well. It's progress at least. Plus I think the Soders scare got some of the more egotistical bastards to realise no one is safe.” He slithered down, head in the other's lap, looking up at him. Hooded eyes, head tipped.

“Indeed. They'll learn the hard way otherwise.” His fingers drifted over the man's features and the other closed his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

“I like this,” he murmured, “you're warm.. and I didn't think you you could be nice."

“Why not?”

“You act too much like a James Bond villain.” Fanin smiled, this time it was genuine.

“I'll choose to take that as a compliment.” He leant down, practically looming over the other man.

“Sure. You're no Mads Mikkelsen, though.” 

“Which one was that?"

“Le Chiffre.” Fanin tried to shrug. “Casino Royale.”

“With Daniel Craig?”

“Yeah."

“I preferred Sean Connery.” At that Fanin chuffed, smiling still. 

“He was cute.” Fanin mumbled, twisting to one side, speaking into the other's thigh. It was the Constant’s turn to tremble a little. “One of my first crushes.”

“I suppose he was.” He touched the man's cheek, gently tracing his nose and lips. Fanin was stifling a soft laugh.

“Yeah."

Constant swallowed, calculating his next move for a moment. 

“So you're gay?”

“Mmm.”

“Even though you’re married?”  
“... Had to hide it and such.”

“I figured.”

“What about you?” Fanin glanced back to him.

“Me? I don't know.. it doesn't really matter what someone is.” He ran his fingers over the other's neck, pleased that he was allowing it. 

“That's fair.” He stretched. “I'm shooting in the dark here but.. are you attracted to me?”

“Am I obvious?”

“You kept touching me. It's not exactly subtle.” He smiled, craning his neck up in order to kiss the Constant. The man cracked a smile, leaning down and capturing his lips in a deep kiss, humming into the other's mouth. 

Again, they shifted positions, in a frantic blur of movements, just clinging to one another, not letting their lips disconnect. The Constant writhed atop of the other, straddling the larger man's lap, fingers grasping at the man's cheeks to hold their faces close together, furiously hungry, rasping is tongue over the other's mouth. His nose rubbed against Fanin's, licking his way into his open mouth, growling upon hearing the man mewl quietly - trembling. He moved a hand to thread it through the soft, if not slightly oily, hair. 

Fanin's larger hands, clung to his waist, tensing hard and tugging forward, pulling their bodies closer still, more warmth swelled in his stomach. He could feel the pressure of the other’s wedding ring into his back and winced a little. Fanin moaned quietly into the other's mouth, tongue lazily licking for more kisses. The Constant pulled back. 

“What's ...wrong?” Fanin’s voice was heavy and laboured.

“Your ring, it,” he exhaled, “I - it feels bad. Knowing you're wearing it.. That you're... someone else's.” Fanin blinking, drawing his arm in and staring down at the little band on his finger, then - albeit shakily - he removed it and placed it onto the nightstand with a feeble smile.

“I don't belong to her..” His arms snaked about the small man's body, resting again on his lower back - his fingers were long and warm, without the cold of the metal band he felt better. “I'm yours tonight, if you'll have me.”

“Thank you.” He inhaled softly. The drew the other back in for more kisses, leaning backwards - one hand fumbling at the buttons of Fanin's shirt, it was messy and his usually well coordinated hands were shaky. Fanin seemed to pick up on the intention at least, as he removed his hands from the other's back and began to unbutton his shirt, exposing his broad chest - flecked with wiry white-grey hairs. He shed it immediately afterwards, tossing it from his person, onto the floor. A small swallow and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. A smile graced his lips. The Constant blinked then reached forwards with both hands, running them down the wide frame.

He leant towards the man once more, kissing him harder, whispering into his lips and open mouth. Fanin arched his back, pressing his chest closer, groaning. Without any thought the Constant ran his thumbs over the buds of the other's nipples, rolling the sensitive skin beneath his fingers, the other moaned deep into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut. He pushed the man back, so he was laying - sprawled out - below him, chest exposed. A grin spread over his features, taking in the sight under him.

“..Gorgeous.” He cooed, leaning down, biting his neck softly - sucking it, tongue massaging the ivory skin, nose buried in the crook of the other’s neck. A little laugh-turned-moan escaped Fanin, his fingers tightened on the other's sides. He pulled back, looking at the start of a red mark for a moment, then he bite down on another part of the exposed flesh, determined to have the other covered in lovebites by the end of this.

“I'm getting naked, you're losing your shirt too.” Fanin reached up, starting to undo the buttons of the shirt. “Otherwise it's unfair.” 

“Oh, of course.” He tilted his head, writhing out of his clothes, beginning to twist out of his slacks too. Fanin copied his move, pulling off his own, exposing his long, fuzzy legs. He shifted, blinking awkwardly. “I'm just warning you.. my legs are a state.” 

“It's okay.” Fanin sat up, smiling kindly - the corners of his eyes crinkling. With an exhale, the Constant eased off his boxers, exposing his scarred thighs. They were marred by harsh, painful-looking burn scars. The larger man reached for them, running the back of his fingers over the damaged flesh, observing with his big dopey eyes. He rubbed lightly, then leant forwards, kissing over the skin gently, up to the other's crotch area. Near his half-stiff cock. He pulled away suddenly, just to tug down his own boxer shorts, letting his shaft free.  
He lay back, smiling, showing surprisingly little amount of shame. “Are we doing this?”

“Yes, we are.”

He settled atop the other, lining their bodies up the best he could, despite his much smaller frame. Again he shifted, rolling their bodies into each other, listening to the soft groans escaping Fanin. Lips pressing all over his collarbone, biting and moaning and leaving marks. He reached between them, taking both their cocks into his hand, rubbing them together - letting the precum make the movements smoother and swifter. Fanin moaned, face completely red as his arched his body into the touch. He let out his own soft noises, rubbing his thumb of the tip of both their cocks, feeling them pulsing against his fingers.

“Ah, oh Christ!” As soon as the other let out a cry, he leant down, capturing his lips in another deep kiss. Then pulled back blinking down, with soft eyes.

“Thank you for the compliment.” Fanin snickered at the words, then pulled him closer, brushing their genitals together roughly. 

“You're welcome, lovely.” He tugged as close as he could allow, grinding hard, moaning. The Constant hissed through his teeth, eyes shutting tight, groaning. Small spasms shook his frame as he bucked into the other, cumming hard, the liquid sticking between them, all over their stomachs and thighs. Fanin followed not long after, breathing heavy. 

“God, I'm getting old,” he sunk into the broad chest, relaxing, “I used to last a lot longer than that.” A deep sigh swelled in his chest, he pressed his nose into the crook of the other's shoulder.

“You and me both.” Fanin shrugged, tracing little patterns with his fingers over the other's back. “Anyway. I'm older than you, I have an excuse.” The only response he got was a crude hand gesture and a raspberry blown into his skin. “I like you better like this,” he mused, “less James Bond villain-y.” 

“Thanks.” He grunted. “I liked you most of the time, don't usually meet bankers like you.”

“Oh heavens, I've noticed.” Another small laugh. “If you're referring to Claus that is.”

“He was a sociopath.” Yawn. “And an all around ass.”

“So I heard, I never met him in person. A liar too, I believe. Faked his degree in economics.” He was shaking his head a little, this was followed by a small tut.

“You have one of those?”

“And economics degree?” A nod. “Yes, I do.”

“Where did you go… to get it?”

“Cambridge.”

“In England?”

“Mm.”

“That's nice.”

“It was stressful, but I suppose not awful.” As Fanin spoke his chest rose and fell, it was odd and The Constant wasn't used to feeling another person beneath his own body. The sensation caused him to snicker. “What's so funny?”

“I like how it feels.. when you talk.” He looked up, smiling more than he had in a long time.

“Good Lord, you haven't got any in so long you've become delirious.” And again, The Constant laughed, scrunching up his face and snorting loudly. 

“Shh. Shh. You're ruining my villain aesthetic.”

“You just touched my penis, you ruined it ages ago!’ More laughter, from both of them this time. 

“No one finds out about this. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” He smiled. “You're meant to be scary.”

“I am scary.”

“Eh.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rarepair! Butter serious @IO y'all better give me some morally grey old gays.


End file.
